


better off dead

by whisperingcorn



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ghosts, Hannibal has killed a lot of people lol, Will Graham sees ghosts, probably?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:53:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29627301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whisperingcorn/pseuds/whisperingcorn
Summary: Will Graham has always been able to see ghosts. Touch them, talk to them, you name it. Though incredibly inconvenient at times, it's become pretty useful in solving murders.He's just never seen this many ghosts around one person before.Who the hell is this Hannibal Lecter and what has he done?
Kudos: 7





	better off dead

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo, this was just an idea that I used to think about like every night but now that it's on paper I'm not sure about it. I'm also not sure if i should write any relationships, bc I don't know if I've got the characters down right.

Will Graham hadn't seen this many ghosts in one room in a while. Sure, back when he worked particularly messy cases as a cop in Louisiana, there had been some rough nights, dark houses full of recently and not-so-recently departed souls drifting around. But what shocked him the most was that these ghosts, filling the small conference room he saw almost everyday, all clung to a singular man. 

Working with the BAU, this wasn't that odd, per se. Serial killers tended to be haunted by at least some of their victims. But the man in the conference room wasn't a serial killer. Well, maybe he was, considering the souls around him. Serial killers just didn't tend to be in thoughtful conversation with the head of the behavioral science unit of the FBI. 

They swarmed around the man like locusts, some glaring at how he held himself-upright, confident, aggravatingly holier-than-thou, others more interesting in the case board in the corner, or in Jack Crawford, who was talking to the haunted man. By the way they moved – almost like they were bored, uninterested in their focal point , Will could tell many had forgotten, as was ghost habit, why they were even there. Many times a victim is linked to their killer after their death, sometimes they're linked to the location of death, sometimes to their own corpse. It was strange to see how many were attached to this man. What the connection was, Will didn't even want to think about.

Though he was used to this kind of thing by now, Will still had to make the effort to push away the look of shock that crept over his face and walk inside. Jack and the tall man looked up from their conversation. 

“Will! This is Doctor Hannibal Lecter, a psychiatrist friend of Alanna's,” Jack got right into the case. “He will be assisting us in providing a psychological profile of our killer.”

The man - Hannibal - turned towards Will and held out a hand. “It is nice to meet you, Mr. Graham.” he said. “Jack has told me about you and I look forward to working together.”

He stood as though he knew he was the one in control here, even with two federal agents in the room. Suddenly feeling very small, Will glanced at his face for a second, even more uncomfortable than normal with meeting eyes. He hated to say that he was handsome; astonishing cheekbones and deep eyes and nice hair and all that. His voice was colored with an accent that Will couldn't place. Something European, probably. Will shook the proffered hand and returned a mumbled sentiment, avoiding eye contact.

Together the trio turned to look at the evidence board. Will stared instead at the back of Dr. Lecter's head, resisting the urge to shoo away the ghost that hung upside down in his face. He still couldn't really process what kind of psychiatrist would have so many deaths to be at least partially responsible for. Funnily, a few of the transparent faces looked oddly familiar, but he avoided looking at them too close. Once ghosts knew you could see them and hear them, they simply would not leave you alone, he knew from experience. 

He was snapped back to the board by an annoyed Jack. Not annoyed at him, though; the story had been leaked by the local PD, and now TattleCrime had gotten wind of it. 

Will gritted his teeth, sick to death of Freddie Lounds, “Tasteless.” 

“Do you often have trouble with taste?”

What? Dr. Lecter had turned to look at him, dark maroon eyes looking past his own, into his brain. Will instinctively turned away. Trouble with taste? What did that even mean?

“My thoughts are not often tasty.” That was true, they weren't.

“Nor mine. No effective barriers.”

Great. He had something in common with the crazy ghost man. He didn't know how to respond, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. He tore away from the restraint of the doctor's gaze, instead watching a particularly well-dressed ghost try to sit at the round meeting table. He couldn't touch the chair, of course. Most ghosts weren't able to interact with anything but other ghosts, and basic furniture only if they were lucky. 

“Not fond of eye contact, are you?”

Oh right, the conversation. This was getting too personal for Will. He felt himself growing a bit irritated.

“Eyes are... distracting,” he ground out, “see too much, see too little...” Will tried to avoid saying anything more on the subject of himself, but Dr. Lecter didn't seem to pick up that vibe, or he just didn't care. He pressed on, like he could dissect Will's mind with a conversation. 

“I imagine what you see and learn touches everything else in your mind. Your values and decency are present, yet shocked at your associations, appalled at your dreams.” 

Okay. Just what did he think he was doing here. Will had just met the guy, and he comes in here, trying to what, profile him? Between the ghosts flooding the room, the growing headache, and the psychological attack he found himself under, Will had had enough. He turned back towards Lecter, staring him down. Dr. Lecter's eyes glinted blood red in the nauseating florescent lights, but he held steady for a heavy pause, almost daring him to say more. 

“Whose profile are you working on?” He turned towards Jack, suddenly realizing this could be a surprise evaluation. “Whose profile is he working on?”

Lecter apologized hollowly, saying something about observing, and tried again to connect the two men. Whatever he wanted to prove fell on partially deaf ears as Will sighed and reached for his bag. 

“Will.” Jack had a warning tone in his voice. 

“Please, don't psychoanalyze me,” he said, checking the clock on the wall through an opalescent torso. “You won't like me when I'm psychoanalyzed. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go give a lecture...on psychoanalyzing.”

He walked out of the conference room, towards his classroom, pinching the ridge of his nose to stymie the throbbing behind his eyes. At least he felt like he could get a proper breath again, without dozens of floating bodies packing the room.

**Author's Note:**

> Whew, I'm not sure how ppl write those long amazing works, this was kinda hard ngl. I'm not sure how I should continue this in any way so if you'd like to see that tell me. If you wouldn't like to see that, also tell me. I'm not a big writer so I'm very open to feedback to improve!! Let er rip ya know ahaha. pls


End file.
